Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Yes. It had been that good.

  But I am married. Married, with a capital M. And as much as my hurt and anger at Quinn made me crazy and bitchy as hell, I didn’t think I could ever really cross the line.

  I hoped I was right.

  Chapter 9

  Both Callie and Sky arrived at four thirty, and by five o’clock we’d decided we were all hungry enough to eat.

  Steam boiled up from the open pot of pasta, coating the cabinet doors with moisture. I leaned over and stirred it, then snagged a piece of spaghetti with a fork.

  Callie stood beside me, watching. “Is it ready?”

  I handed her the fork. “See what you think. I don’t want to overcook it. Quinn always says—” I stopped mid-sentence and hitched a sob, glancing over the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the dining/living area where Sky was busy pouring wine.

  Callie tested the spaghetti. “It’s not quite ready, honey. But why don’t you take a breather? I’ll watch it.”

  “No.” I tried to square my shoulders, but they sagged. “I’ll be okay.” I stirred the aromatic sauce and found Callie still staring at me with a furrowed brow.

  “Do you think I did the right thing?” I asked.

  “Leaving Quinn, you mean?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Doubt washed through me. “Was it foolish? Did I overreact?”

  She slid an arm around my waist and pecked my cheek. “Sweetie. You have every right to be upset. Quinn knows how much having a child means to you.”

  I brushed back tears. “Yeah. He does. Sometimes it’s all I could talk about.”

  “And he didn’t stand up for you, did he? Makes me so mad.” She scowled and gently pushed me aside to check the garlic bread browning in the oven. “He should have hired a lawyer. Or at least tried to fight for you and Kimi.”

  Sky appeared behind me. “You okay, Marcella?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied, brushing the tears from my cheek.

  He noticed. “Why don’t you use a little Valor? It’s in my backpack over there on the couch.” He came closer, taking the big spoon from me. “I’ve got this.”

  I mumbled my thanks and let Callie lead me to the couch, where she picked up the bottle and applied the essential oil blend to my wrists and the back of my neck. The aroma of spruce, rosewood, blue tansy, and frankincense filled the air and buoyed my spirits. I felt my heart rate lower, and I breathed more evenly. “Thanks, hon.” Over the past year, Sky had trained Quinn and me on how to use the oils instead of harsh cleaners, air fresheners, Advil, pain meds, stomach aids, and so much more. We now turned to our oils before we opened the medicine cabinet, although once in a while we resorted to modern medicine when necessary.

  I walked to the window that faced north, and thought of all the times Quinn and I had eaten our gourmet meals in this room, near this woodstove, under these tall pines, with the scent of cinnamon, or cloves, or lemon oil in the air. I couldn’t help think of the times we’d made love listening to the sound of the river after having rubbed patchouli and ylang ylang oil on each other. Or of all the cool evenings when we’d drunk our semi-dry Riesling sitting in the green Adirondack chairs overlooking the river with an oil blend called Purification that kept all the bugs away.

  I sighed. I missed him. Sure, I was still mad at him, but I missed his serene ways and his comforting presence all the same.

  A light flickered in the distance at the next cabin along the river, owned by the Wohl family, shocking me out of my thoughts. Maybe it was an oil lamp. It didn’t look like the steady beam of an electric light.

  Rarely had I seen the owners or even renters over there, except one time last summer when someone was fishing at the base of the ledge near their cabin. Normally in the summer you couldn’t even see the house because of the thick greenery. I figured in winter we had a clearer view across the woods. I didn’t remember if I’d seen tire tracks going into their place earlier; I didn’t think so.

  Sky lifted the stockpot from the stove and poured it into the colander in the sink. Steam rose in a cloud around his face.

  Together we dished up the food and settled at the dining room table near the woodstove, which warmed the room. Dak and Beau lay together on the rug near our feet. We toasted to a safer, more peaceful future, drinking a very nice Cabernet Franc that I’d stumbled on at the Speculator liquor store.

  We chatted and ate as if I hadn’t left my husband over two hundred miles away, as if I hadn’t just lost my dear little daughter, and as if there wasn’t a serial killer lurking in the area. Finally, the talk turned darker, and Sky asked Callie about the case.

  “What does Copper say about it? Have they got any more leads?” he said, pouring another glass of wine for himself.

  “Ugh. I’m so tired of being scared.” Callie played with the last few cherry tomatoes in her salad. “Copper says they just finished a new composite drawing of the guy who almost snatched that girl. I haven’t seen it yet, but she says it’s been all over the news.”

  I looked up, surprised. I hadn’t watched television since that morning and wondered if it would be a good idea to become familiar with the killer’s face. Just in case I ran into him in the woods or in a parking lot like that poor girl who was almost taken. “We should check the news when we’re done with dinner, guys.”

  “Good idea.” Callie took a sip of wine. “Copper’s getting really burned out, though. The whole force is. Half of them are patrolling the schools and villages, the other half are searching the woods near the riverbanks. It’s really hard when folks are expecting results, and all that happens is another girl gets taken. Seven girls, guys. Seven. It’s just so hard to believe.”

  “It’s gotta be rough on the police force. Talk about pressure,” I said. “Copper’s so brave. I admire her more than you’ll ever know.” I had a hard time articulating how I felt about Callie’s lover. The woman was so no-nonsense when it came to her job. Totally devoted to upholding the law and protecting the citizens of Hamilton County, Copper was a perfect example of how a strong woman could show everyone “how it’s done.” I also loved how she adored Callie and helped my friend become the best person she could be. Copper was good for Callie. There was no doubt about it.

  Sky nodded. “I’m with you on that. Copper would make a good soldier. I served with lots of guys overseas who she’d leave in the dust.”

  I agreed with him and glanced at the fire, shivering. “Fire’s going down. I’ll get more wood.”

  Abruptly, Sky stood up. “Oh, crud. I forgot to tell you. You’re all out of wood. We need to refill the rack.”

  Callie followed him to the door, beckoning to me. “Marcie and I will help you. It’ll go faster that way.”

  I jumped up and we grabbed our coats. After turning on the spotlights, we threaded our way through the trees in the cold night air to the new woodshed. Quinn had commissioned it last summer. It spanned the area near the old outhouse, a sturdy wood and metal building with room for all Quinn’s gadgets, including racks and racks of firewood. He’d filled it with enough wood for several winters after working outside for weeks and weeks with his chainsaw and axe. I’d helped him carry and stack it, and there had been many a night when we fell into bed exhausted from our efforts.

  With key in hand, I searched for the padlock Quinn had installed when we left last fall. “Where’s the darned lock?” I asked.

  Sky came closer. “There’s no padlock here, Marcella.” He peered at it. “Wait just one minute. Looks like someone took a crowbar to it.” He slid open the wide door, flicking the light switch inside the doorway. There, on the ground just outside the shed, lay the lock and piece of wood to which it had been attached.

  “Oh, no.” I stood, staring. Most of the firewood was gone. Quinn’s power tools were missing. All that remained was enough wood to maybe—possibly—get me through a few weeks of cold temperatures. “I don’t believe this.”

  Callie grabbed my arm. “Marcie? Wasn’t this place full—”

 
; I interrupted her. “It was. We had enough stored in here for a few years. At least. And Quinn’s chainsaw is gone. And all his power tools. See over there over the workbench? That’s where he kept them.”

  I stared at the empty outlines drawn on the pegboard. Hammer, drill, clippers, electric nail gun. All empty. Everything. Gone.

  I sagged against the wall, and Sky caught me.

  “We’ll call the cops,” he said.

  “Okay.” I leaned against him, grateful for his support. “But who would even know we had firewood in here? What kind of lame creeps would do this? We’re in the middle of nowhere! There’s plenty of firewood all over the place, all folks have to do is chop it down and split it. Why would they steal ours?”

  Callie loaded up with an armful of wood, reminding us why we’d come outside in the first place. “Come on, you two. We’ll call Copper. She’ll know what to do.”

  I stopped on the way to the woodpile to pick up something that shone from the floor. I palmed a silver necklace with a Saint Christopher medal. It sparkled in the light. “This isn’t mine or Quinn’s,” I said, holding it up to show Sky and Callie.

  Sky stooped to pick up a huge load of wood, nodding toward me. “Put it in your pocket. Maybe it’s a clue.”

  A clue?

  The chain practically burned my fingers. I dropped it into my pocket and shivered. “Ugh. I didn’t think of that.”

  We hurried inside. I heaved a sigh of relief when we returned to the safety of the cabin, glad to return to the warmth and light.

  Chapter 10

  I sat between Callie and Sky on the couch. We’d talked about the break-in until I was tired of wondering who and why, then Callie called Copper, who said she’d check out the shed in the morning when she got off duty. Although I usually didn’t drink much, under the circumstances I didn’t argue when Sky cracked open the second bottle of wine and filled our glasses. We settled on the couch together and I switched on the six o’clock news.

  Almost immediately, a composite drawing of the serial killer flashed on the screen. His face looked unremarkable, with even features. He had a nice smile, and a good head of hair.

  “Whoa,” I said, shivering a little. “He looks so young. So normal. So nice.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Somehow that’s even creepier than some ugly mug, you know?”

  Callie slid closer to me. “Yeah. He looks All-American, doesn’t he? Like a high school football star.”

  Sky studied the screen. “Maybe the girls trust him when he approaches them. Maybe they know him.”

  “Do you think he lures them into his truck? Or takes them by force?” I sipped my wine, starting to feel a little woozy. “Maybe Sky’s right. Maybe he’s from around here.”

  Callie shrugged. “Who knows? If they recognize him, that could explain why the girls from the area accept rides from him. If that’s how he does it.”

  “Were all the victims from Speculator?” I asked.

  “I think so.” Callie got up. “Gotta use the bathroom. Be right back.”

  Callie’s scream split the air minutes later.

  Sky was faster than me, even though I noticed a slight hitch in his step. He bounded from the couch and sprinted toward the bathroom. I wasn’t far behind.

  Callie slumped beneath the window. “Someone’s out there,” she whispered. “Oh, God. I saw him.”

  Sky shut off the light, jerked back the curtains, and peered into the night. “What exactly did you see?”

  She shuddered. “A guy in black, going into the shed.”

  “What?” I started for the mudroom to grab my coat but Sky’s strong hand closed on my wrist.

  “Marcella, wait.” He plucked the flashlight from the hook on the wall and shrugged into his leather jacket. “It’s too dangerous.”

  I bristled at first, then stopped my insane rush into danger. He was right. What was I thinking? I brushed his cheek with my fingers. “Please be careful.”

  “Always.” Sky crept to the door and slunk outside. I was suddenly reminded of the years he’d spent as a soldier, especially when I noticed the hardened expression on his face.

  Callie got up and we hugged each other, watching from the window, the best vantage point from that part of the property.

  “Should we call the cops?” I whispered.

  “Probably,” she said.

  We didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Our faces pressed close to the window caused vaporous clouds on the glass.

  I rubbed the window with the cuff of my sweatshirt. “Where’s Sky? I don’t see him.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Maybe he’s hiding, waiting for the guy to come out.” I said.

  “Maybe.”

  I felt Callie’s sides heaving as she breathed hard, and my own heartbeat raced so fast I was surprised we couldn’t hear it slamming against my ribs.

  Shouts and sounds of a scuffle echoed in the dark, breaking the silence. We listened for about a minute to the grunts and thuds, paralyzed in fear.

  “Look.” Callie pointed to a figure emerging from the shed. Hooded in the dark, I couldn't see his face. He stood for a moment, facing the house.

  “It’s not Sky,” she mumbled needlessly.

  He took a few steps toward the porch.

  “Oh, God. Is he coming inside?” I whispered.

  We watched while he stood, unmoving. As if he changed his mind, he turned and disappeared into the woods.

  “Come on,” I took her hand and led her outside. My heart pounded in my ears.

  “Sky?” We both called his name, hurrying out to the shed.

  I flipped up the light switch and stared. “Sky!”

  He lay on the ground, head cradled in his arms. He moaned and tried to sit up, but couldn’t quite manage it and fell back to the dirt floor.

  Callie and I raced to his side, kneeling beside him. We both cried his name and babbled at the same time, asking “are you okay?” and “what can we do?” and touching his hands, hair, and face with nervous fingers that flitted like frightened sparrows.

  He wheezed and coughed into his hand. “Son of a bitch caught me by surprise.” A trickle of blood ran down his cheek. “Damn, I was quiet. But he must’ve heard me come out of the cabin.” He held his hand to his head. “Crap. The world’s spinning.”

  I felt a little dizzy myself. Too much wine, I thought. “Are you okay?” I asked breathlessly.

  “I’ll be—” He tried to get up again, but tilted sideways. “Whoa.”

  “Wait. Let us help you,” Callie said. She and I each took an arm. “Okay, let’s try it this way. One, two, three.”

  He rose slowly to his feet. “I’m up.”

  The grateful smile he flashed me drove an electric bolt of heat through my body.

  “Thanks, girls.”

  I flushed. “Let’s get him inside where we can assess the damage,” I said, trying to ignore my body’s ridiculous reaction to that smile.

  What is wrong with me?

  Callie shuffled to Sky’s other side, and although he lurched a bit, we managed to get him into the guest bedroom on the first floor.

  Callie went for the first aid kit and I helped him settle on the bed. “Here you go. Just lie still and try to relax.” I doubled up the pillows under his head and unlaced his boots, pulling them off. A distant part of my brain remarked that I’d forgotten how big his feet were. They were huge. Probably size fourteen or larger.

  He closed his eyes and moaned again, reaching for his head. “It’s gonna be a big lump. He hit me with a piece of wood.”

  “My gosh,” I said. “But don’t worry, it’s okay, big guy.” I gently moved his long hair back from his forehead, stroking his cheek. “We’ll get you cleaned up in no time. And we’ll put some oils on it.”

  The situation oddly reminded me of the time Quinn had hit Sky with our van when Sky was running out of the woods the summer before last. It had been the first time I’d seen Sky in eighteen years.

  We’d treated wounds much
more serious than the cut that dribbled blood onto my pillowcases now, and I thought I could handle this.

  Callie brought the first aid box into the room. “Here it is. Want me to do it?”

  I sat on the side of the bed and opened the kit, setting it beside him. “I’ve got it, honey. Why don’t you get him a nice cold glass of water?”

  I cleaned the wound and bandaged it, not once thinking about my aversion to blood. Thankful that my practical self took over, I watched as a purple bruise slowly rose on his brow. “Which oils, Sky?”

  “Lavender. Helichrysum. Panaway. Is he gone?” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

  I shivered and touched his hand with mine. “I think so. He ran toward the road.”

  Callie came in with the water and set it on the table by the bed. “Here you go, Sky. Are you gonna be okay?”

  He groaned. “Sure. Long as that prick didn’t crack my skull.”

  She laughed. “Your skull is too hard for that, big brother.”

  In spite of the fact that last year we’d discovered Callie was actually Willow’s child (Sky’s older sister) and that their real relationship was uncle and niece—strange as that was—they still referred to each other as brother and sister. They’d grown up that way, and were only a few years apart in age. I couldn’t think of him as her uncle, anyway. It was too weird. Sky’s parents had raised Callie as their own daughter, even though she was their biological granddaughter. And Callie hadn’t known until it was too late, until after her mother’s murder.

  I asked Callie to get the oils and leaned down to wipe Sky’s big hands with a damp kitchen towel. When they were clean, I dabbed around his face, trying to get the bits of blood off. “You poor thing. You’re our hero.”

  He grimaced. “Some hero. I got bashed by the bad guy.”

  “Well,” I leaned closer, gently lifting his head to reach around to the back of his neck. “At least the guy knows there’s a strong man in the cabin. Maybe he won’t try to break in again. I wonder what he was looking for? Maybe the necklace?”

  I couldn't finish my thoughts, because Sky drew me toward him and pressed his soft mouth against mine, kissing me deeply.